


Autograph

by vidari



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Gen, Humor, Identity Reveal, Mild Language, One Shot, Peter Parker is a Mess, Secret Identity Fail, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidari/pseuds/vidari
Summary: One Shot. Peter Parker is back on the grind as Spider-Man after the events of Homecoming, swinging around the city and saving the day as usual. Flash Thompson is well... Flash, a stuck-up rich kid extraordinaire. When Flash catches his idol, Spider-Man, without the mask, he’s in for a surprise.This is my first fanfic (like, ever!), so please tell me what you think!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 116





	Autograph

Spider-Man perches on the edge of a warehouse roof, his feet dangling over the rush-hour traffic below. The bottom half of his mask is pulled up, since it can get a bit stuffy in there after a while.

“Hey Karen, any news on the police scanners?” he wonders, picking at a crack in the roof’s pitted surface.

“Nothing at the moment,” the smooth female voice replies. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Spider-Man lets out a little sigh and lies down flat on his back. He watches the clouds stream by overhead, marring the pale blue of the sky. 

“Am I a bad person for wanting crimes to happen? I mean, I don’t want anybody getting hurt, but I don’t want to be useless either, y’know?” he asks.

“I don’t think it makes you a bad person, Peter. Anyone in your position would probably feel exactly the same. But I think you should also remember it’s thanks to your efforts that nobody is in danger right now. You look very intimidating in your suit, you know, and if I were a criminal, I definitely would not want to fight you,” the AI says kindly.

Spider-Man chuckles. “Thanks.”

The wailing cry of sirens jerks him out of his calm. He scrambles to his feet and tugs his mask down over his face. Below him, he spots police cars chasing a beat-up van careening through the streets.

“What’s going on down there?” he calls, readying his web shooters. 

“A getaway from the robbery of a nearby bank. Two suspects, unknown identities,” Karen responds immediately.

“On it.”

Leaping off the building, Spider-Man swings himself towards the robbers’ van. With a loud bang, he smashes into the side of the van, his teeth rattling with the impact. Despite the driver’s crazed swerving, he’s able to crawl until he’s next to the passenger window. He cranes his neck and peeks in to see a figure in a ski mask clinging on to their seat for dear life.

“Hi there! In case you didn’t know, this is sorta illegal, so would you mind telling your friend to pull over?” Spider-Man yells over the sound of the rushing wind. Ski Mask shakes their head mutely, bouncing up and down as the van speeds through a red light. 

Spidey shrugs. At least he tried!

A loud honk makes him look up, and he realizes that the street in front of him is crammed with bumper to bumper traffic. Traffic that the van is heading straight towards! A few more seconds, and a whole lot of people could get hurt.

“Karen! Ideas!?” Spider-Man shouts frantically.

“There’s an alleyway on your right. We have to turn the van that way, quickly!” Karen says.

The scanner in his mask highlights the Dumpster-filled gap. With a deep breath, he punches through the window and uses a web to jerk the wheel away from the driver, sending the van skidding into the narrow alley. Spider-Man leaps into the air and clings to the side of a building just in time. CRASH! Metal clangs against metal, and smoke begins to curl from the vehicle’s crumpled hood. Right as the robbers try to get out and make a run for it, four police cars come screeching to a stop at the alley’s only exit. The lights wash the surrounding brick walls in a mix of red and blue as the two robbers are handcuffed and read their rights. 

Spider-Man gives the cops below him a thumbs up, flips onto the roof of the building, and bounds across with light, powerful steps. A glance tells him that the city is stained in gold from the setting sun, and he figures it’s time to head home. Just ‘cause May is okay with the Spider-Man thing doesn’t mean that he’s allowed to stay out as long as he wants. Good thing he’s right near the alleyway where he left his backpack!

Flash Thompson slides into the backseat of the banana yellow cab and shoves a fifty dollar bill into the cabbie’s hand.

“Follow Spider-Man! Go!” he yells. 

The cab driver rolls his eyes, but obediently pulls out into the street. Flash presses his face against the smudged glass of the window, cursing again that he had let his phone die. He resists letting out a little gasp as Spider-Man slams into the bad guys’ van. Even though Spidey’s been around for about a year, it never fails to amaze Flash how ridiculously agile and strong he is. Sure, his fascination with Spider-Man may have crossed the line into an obsession, but who can blame him? His friends say that the other superheroes are way cooler, but the Avengers are almost like gods, descending from the heavens to fight world-altering battles. When you see them, you know that something near-apocalyptic must be going on for them to get off their butts. But Spider-Man? He sticks up for the little guy when nobody else will, and isn’t afraid to just help random people out whenever he can. Flash respects that. 

As he watches, the van jerks towards an alleyway, brakes squealing uselessly. Flash’s jaw drops as he sees Spider-Man launch himself in the air seconds before the van collides with a series of Dumpsters. Damn! That must have been, what, twenty, thirty feet?

“Pull over here!” he orders the driver. 

The cabbie pulls up to the edge of the curb next to the alley. Without a farewell, Flash hops out of the cab, and yanks a Sharpie out of his pocket that he keeps there for such an occasion. After all, an autograph is the next best thing to a selfie. 

Suddenly, a squad of cop cars come screeching to a stop, blocking the alley’s only entrance.

“Shit!” Flash curses. He watches helplessly as his best chance to meet his hero disappears right before his eyes. He almost turns away and begins the long walk home.

But wait! Spider-Man starts jogging across the roof of a nearby building, away from the crime scene. Abandoning all dignity, Flash sprints down the sidewalk after him. He twists to dodge a double-wide stroller, and a businessman lets out a shout of irritation as Flash knocks the briefcase from his hand. He cranes his head up and watches as Spidey drops down into an alley only a couple hundred yards away. Flash puts on a burst of speed and stumbles to a stop outside a dingy alleyway, the walls black with grime. Spider-Man is crouched against the filthy brick, a beat-up backpack webbed up next to him. As Flash is about to step forward and maybe introduce himself, Spider-Man pulls off his mask.

Spider-Man pulls off his mask.

Flash’s mind goes blank. His eyes seem to work in stutters and stops. He knows that face. How could he? How could he not? 

Behind Spider-Man’s mask sits Peter Parker in all of his dorky glory. Peter shakes his head like a wet dog and grins. 

“We did good, Karen!” he exclaims, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Thanks for the assist back there.”

“Peter, it was all you. Though I might have helped a bit,” the robotic voice replies. “Mr. Stark will be proud.”

Peter blushes and runs a hand through his curly hair. “Thanks, Karen.”

Flash tries to take a step back out of the alleyway. He is so not ready for this situation. Unfortunately, the situation is most definitely ready for him. His foot brushes against a crushed beer can, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. Peter whips his hand around and in a blur of white, sends a web into Flash’s chest. Flash stumbles back and conks his head against the brick, a splash of color lighting up beneath his eyelids. He lets out a low groan.

With a catlike bounce, Peter is up, and he hurriedly tugs the mask over his face. 

“Uh, are you okay, sir? I’m very sorry, I thought you were a bad guy,” he says in a gruff voice, laying the accent on thick. Maybe Flash didn’t see his face. Maybe he can save this. He just needs to keep calm and be brave and it’ll all work out-

“Peter? You’re Spider-Man?” Flash asks slowly, disbelievingly, rubbing the back of his head.

Shit.

“You’re not lying about the internship. And you really do know Spider-Man. And how does a kid like you know Tony Stark anyway? I mean, I knew the suit was his work, but I thought Spider-Man was an adult, who was rich and- hey, wait a second! You stole my car!” Flash blurts, his voice wobbly and confused. 

Shit!

Peter flinches. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, like this whole situation will go away if he just waits it out. His hands drop away from his face, and he tries to breathe deeply.

All this kid’s done is insult him and call him a liar, but that’s only to Peter Parker. He worships Spider-Man. Honestly, Peter usually feels at least a little bit of satisfaction that Flash doesn’t know that the two are one. Only, it’s a little hard to dredge up that satisfaction now that Flash has seen him without the mask. 

He drops the phony accent. It’s no use now. “Don’t tell. Please. People could get-”

“Hurt. That’s the whole superhero thing, I know,” Flash says, a little bit of his trademark swagger trickling back into his tone. His voice is a lot higher-pitched than usual, though, like he inhaled a balloon-full of helium.

“What are you even doing here?” Peter manages, the words strained and scratchy. He hates the way his voice breaks on the last word. 

Flash scuffs the weedy asphalt with his foot. “I was following Spid- you. I was following you. I saw you stop those robbers and I wanted to like, meet you for real and stuff.” He looks up. “Hey, are you actually loaded and just pretending to be poor? ‘Cause if you are, then you’re really good at acting like you have no money. Like, really good.”

Peter can’t help but let out a harsh bark of laughter as he starts to pace back and forth. This is crazy. Crazy! He can deal with Ned and May and even Tony-freaking-Stark knowing the truth, but Flash is a whole ‘nother story. He’s a variable that Peter has no way of predicting, a possible threat he can’t analyze. If Flash tells anyone about his alter ego… just thinking about it sends a skinny trickle of fear down Peter’s spine. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Flash beats him to the punch.

“I, uh, wanna say thanks. For the Washington Monument,” Flash mutters. He’s staring down the brick right beside Peter’s head, like he regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Bravely, he forges on. “I could’ve died. But I didn’t, ‘cause of you.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops.

“You-You’re welcome,” he stutters. “I… you really won’t tell anyone?”

“Sure, man,” Flash replies, traces of embarrassment still lacing his words as he fiddles with the tail of the web stuck to his shirt. “No one would believe me anyway. Hell, I don’t even really believe it. You’re too much of a little bitch to be Spider-Man.” 

Peter ignores the insult. All that matters is that he can sense Flash is telling the truth. His identity is safe. 

He lets out a sigh of relief and relaxes slightly, realizing that he’s kept his muscles tensed for a fight for the last few minutes. Peter slumps against the wall, the eyes of his suit narrowing with a slippery click. 

“Thanks. Really,” he says in a whisper. “I really don’t feel like having bad guys try to beat me up at school. Chem is bad enough as it is, you know?”

To Peter’s surprise, Flash lets out an awkward snort of laughter. “Yeah. Chem sucks. But I’ve got an A in that class, so I’m doing better than most people.”

Peter rolls his eyes behind the mask. “That’s good for you.”

Flash’s hand moves towards his pocket and Peter snaps to attention, his web shooters ready at his sides. 

“No phone,” he says pointedly.

“Chill, dude, chill!” Flash says, slightly nervous. He knows what Spider-Man can do, and frankly, he’s not super willing to be on the other end of that. “My phone’s dead. These new iPhones have shit batteries.” He reaches slowly into his pocket and pulls out a Sharpie, a sheepish expression on his face.

“What’s that for? Do you… do you want, like, an autograph?” Peter asks haltingly. “I’m not usually prepped to do that, so I don’t have any paper on me-” 

Peter pauses and looks over at Flash. 

“I mean, do you want one?”

Flash’s eyes look a bit like gumballs in the moment: glossy and huge.

“Do I look stupid?” he asks, almost shoving the pen into Peter’s hand. “Here, sign.”

“Um, sign what? I took all my empty notebooks out of my backpack ‘cause May was nagging me about it and it doesn’t look like you have any paper on you,” Peter replies, tilting his head.

Flash puts his hand out like a businessman who just closed a multi-million dollar deal. “My hand,” he blurts. “Sign my hand.”

“...Ok, then.”

Peter takes a few seconds to figure out how exactly he should disguise his handwriting. He gently tosses the pen from hand to hand, adjusting his grip before settling on his left. Holding the palm of Flash’s hand with his fingertips, he scrawls a signature before quickly letting go.

Spider-Man :)

“Thanks,” Flash says quietly, tucking his newly autographed hand behind his back. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly before straightening up. Peter didn’t even realize he had been slouching. “Quick question: does this web stuff come off in the wash? ‘Cause this shirt was like a hundred bucks,” he asks, tugging on a strand of the web.

Peter sighs. Flash is gonna Flash, he supposes. “It dissolves after a few hours. Your shirt will be fine.”

He tosses the Sharpie back to Flash with a quick flick of his wrist, and Flash fumbles with it for a moment before sliding it into his back pocket. 

“You better not be lying, or I’ll make you pay for it,” he warns, though without his usual smugness. “See you, Monday, Parker.”

With that, he’s off, strolling out of the alley like he owns the place. Belatedly, Peter realizes that Flash used his actual name. 

“Huh. Maybe that wasn’t so terrible,” he says aloud, adjusting his mask as he prepares to head home.

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Karen agrees, and Peter startles at the sound of her computerized voice.

“Hey, why were you silent that whole time? I could have used some help protecting my identity back there!” Peter says accusingly, though there is a tinge of humor in his voice.

“You didn’t need me. You did quite well on your own, Peter,” the AI says reassuringly. “Also, it was very fun to watch.”

“Karen!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this tiny little fic, and if you did, please tell me what you think in the comments! Have a nice day! :)


End file.
